Stitches
by JackOfTheBox
Summary: It's just an old songfic for Stein x Spirit so... Kinda sad


**Okay. I'm aware that this song is older now but when I first started this the song had just come out so excuse me. In any case, I was like 'hey lets finish this trashy fanfiction haha' so just bear with me on this one.**

 **(I don't own Soul Eater, or Stitches. Btw, it's Stein's POV. Thought you ought to know.)**

* * *

 ** _I thought that I've been hurt before_**

 ** _But no one's ever left me quite this sore_**

 ** _Your words cut deeper than a knife_**

 ** _Now I need someone to breathe me back to life_**

Stein didn't believe it. He'd heard it, saw it. So had everyone else in front of the academy. Spirit had just broken up with him. Stein had stood there for a few minutes, staring at Spirt, before running off. He was in that numb stage of denial. Spirit had already gotten switched to be partners with someone else. Now Stein was partnered with some girl with a noticeable crush on Stein, and Spirit had gotten a girl partner too. He'd looked happy with her, happier than he'd ever looked with Stein. Stein was crying, lying on his stitched together bed. His pillow was soaked. The wall didn't look any different than it had yesterday, when Stein had first lain down. Who was going to tell him bad jokes to cheer him up now? Who was going to try (and fail) to make breakfast for Stein every morning? Who was going to kiss Stein's injures after battle? Who was going to make sure he didn't succumb to the madness?

 _ **Got a feeling that I'm going under**_

 _ **But I know that I'll make it out alive**_

 _ **If I quit calling you my lover**_

 _ **Move on**_

He couldn't do it. He was tired, hungry, thirsty. Most of all, he was sore. He hadn't moved or slept. He refused all food and water. He had been taken by an unbeatable depression. He'd loved Spirit, and his heart had been broken, shattered. It had been ripped apart, and it was the one thing he could not sow back together. He couldn't just stitch himself back together. He felt himself slipping slowly away. With every fresh tear that slipped down his face, he felt a fresh wave of depression wash over him, slowly drowning him. He knew how to fix this, how to raise his head above the blackness and sorrow that threatened to drown him. It was easy. Forget about Spirit. Forget about his stupid face, and his stupid jokes, his stupid smile. He found himself unable to do so, and slipped into a state of unconsciousness.

* * *

 _He looked around. It was dark, too dark. Without Spirit by his side, he felt… afraid. He was scared, for the first time in almost forever. He looked around, but it was too dark to see. He tried to find some source of light, and then-_

 _Pain. He wasn't sure if he felt it or merely knew he should feel it. He looked down. Blood seeped from his clothes. A gash in the front of his shirt, in his stomach. He needed stitches. He looked up. Light had filtered in. He could see his house. But in front of him, he saw Spirit. No, forget him. He tried to move past him, but no. Spirit moved with him, always right in front._

L-Let me pass. _He choked out._ Let me pass. _He said again, stronger, more confident. Spirit laughed._

And let the freak crawl home? I don't think so.

 _He would be the death of Stein. Why couldn't he let go?!_

 _ **You watch me bleed until I can't breathe**_

 _ **I'm shaking**_

 _ **falling onto my knees**_

 _ **And now that I'm without your kisses**_

 _ **I'll be needing stitches**_

 _He fell to his knees. There was so much blood, and he found it hard to bring in air. Spirit raised an eyebrow._

On your knees in front of me again?

 _He blushed. After all this, after everything, he couldn't bring himself to hate Spirit. Even though he was being rude, even though he'd broken his heart, he couldn't hate him. Why couldn't he hate him?_

 _He reached out for Spirit, hoping that maybe before he died, he could at least have one last thing from Spirit. One last thing, one he hoped would be granted with his last breath. One final request. All he wanted was a final kiss. Spirit laughed and knocked his hands aside. Of course. He tried to ignore Spirit then, and get to his house, where he could stitch himself up. He just needed stitches, yes, that's it. Stitches…_

 _ **I'm tripping over myself**_

 _ **I'm aching**_

 _ **begging you to come help**_

 _ **And now that I'm without your kisses**_

 _ **I'll be needing stitches**_

 _He managed to pull himself up off the ground and start walking. It was obvious that Spirit wasn't going to kiss him and help him with the stitching. He wasn't going to hold him close and tell him he didn't mind the blood staining his clothes. And he most certainly wasn't going to tell Stein that he loved him ever again. So he was going home, away from Spirit, even though he wanted nothing more than to cling to cling to Spirit in his final moments of life. He heard Spirit laugh behind him, causing him to stumble and fall. He looked over his shoulder at Spirit._

Please, _he begged,_ help me.

 _ **Just like a moth drawn to a flame**_

 _ **Oh you lured me in I couldn't sense the pain**_

 _ **Your bitter heart cold to the touch**_

 _ **Now I'm gonna reap what I sew**_

 _ **I'm left seeing red on my own**_

 _Spirit smiled at him. He thought maybe this meant he wouldn't die of sorrow, or blood loss, or anything else. Spirit held out a hand. He turned from his house, from all the things that would save him, and he took Spirit's hand. Spirit pulled him close, and he thought everything was better, it was all better. He was bleeding to death (shouldn't he be dead already?) but at least he was in Spirit's arms. Any feeling of pain ebbed away, and he lost himself in the way Spirit smelled. He knew that if he stayed here he would regret it, that he would die. Spirit's touch froze his skin, his fingertips cold (much like his heart) but he didn't want to let go._

 _Spirit suddenly pushed him away, and his vision danced in red. Red, everything was turning red. His clothes, the ground. Red…_

 _ **Got a feeling that I'm going under**_

 _ **But I know that I'll make it out alive**_

 _ **If I quit calling you my lover**_

 _ **Move on**_

 _Red was turning to black as the loss of all the blood caused him to begin to lose his grip on things. Everything turning black… (wasn't that familiar?) He was going to die, unless…_

 _Unless he got to his house and got those stitches. He could make it, as long as he just let go of the thought of Spirit. He just needed to move on. He needed to let go or else he was going to die and he knew it. But it was hard to let go of Spirit. He loved him, and he had thought Spirit loved him. How do you just let go of someone you love? How was he supposed to do that? He just needed Spirit. Couldn't Spirit just help him? Couldn't he see that he loved him? He needed him, dammit!_

 _ **You watch me bleed until I can't breathe**_

 _ **I'm shaking**_

 _ **f**_ _ **alling onto my knees**_

 _ **And now that I'm without your kisses**_

 _ **I'll be needing stitches**_

 _He tried to move past Spirit, tried to get to his house, but he found that it was harder than he had originally thought. He was bleeding so much, too much. He could barely breathe from the loss of blood. He shook, trying to stay on his feet. It was difficult, and a few yards away from the front door, he collapsed, falling to his knees as the blood poured out of his body. No, he needed to make it. He needed to. If he couldn't rely on Spirit, and his kisses and bad jokes, he would have to rely on himself, and on his ability to stitch himself back together. He had to. He stood and tried to continue, his vision blurring and going black around the edges._

 _ **I'm tripping over myself**_

 _ **I'm aching**_

 _ **begging you come help**_

 _ **And now that I'm without your kisses**_

 _ **I'll be needing stitches**_

 _He tried walking normally, tried to continue the last few yards. It amazed him, in some part of his brain, that such a short distance could be the difference between life and death for him. Just a few more steps. He could make it a few more steps, he could make it. He could make it. He could make it, he could make it, hecouldmakeithecouldmakeit._

 _What had he always drawn strength from? He needed it now. He thought, diving into the corners of his mind, searching for the brightest corner, the one that made the dark and the madness shy away. He searched, until he found it. But it was Spirit. He had always drawn on Spirit for strength, but now, Spirit drained him. It was going… to kill him…_

 _ **Needle and the thread**_

 _ **Gotta get you out of my head**_

 _ **Needle and the thread**_

 _ **Gonna wind up dead**_

No… Can't… Die… Not like this. _He made it to the door, and flung it open. He made it to his room, and searched frantically. His vision was going, and he needed to do this before he blacked out. He figured he wouldn't die immediately, no, he thought he would pass out and die in his sleep. But he needed to stay awake long enough to stitch his skin back together. But the memory of Spirit lingered. He could not focus. He needed to focus. He needed to forget Spirit and move on. He needed to live more than he needed a boyfriend. He knew he needed to focus. He was going to die if he didn't._

 _ **Needle and the thread**_

 _ **Gotta get you out of my head**_

 _ **Needle and the thread**_

 _ **Gonna wind up dead**_

 _Threading the needle was hard enough without his fingers shaking and his vision blurring. Once he had done so, he just needed to stitch himself together. But the image of Spirit in his mind blurred his vision further._

Get out of my head!

 _Spirit's voice then:_

No

 _ **Needle and the thread**_

 _ **Gotta get you out of my head**_

 _ **Needle and the thread**_

 _ **Gonna wind up dead**_

 _He started to cry. He could not do this, not with Spirit's voice and imagine branded onto his eyes and into his ears. He had so often drowned himself in Spirit, lost himself in his boyfriend, to forget the outside world and all its pain. How was he to turn completely around and drown himself in pain and reality to forget Spirit? It would be difficult, but… If he did not, he would end up dead on the floor of the room he had willingly given himself to Spirit in. So he would forget. He closed his eyes._

 _He would forget…_

 _ **Needle and the thread**_

 _ **Gotta get you out of my head get you out of my head**_

 _He opened his eyes quickly to find Spirit in front of him._

Get out! _He screamed. Spirit looked shocked, but his image shimmered and vanished. Spirit's voice faded from his ears. He managed to stitch himself together, but his vision still faded away to black._

 _ **You watch me bleed until I can't breathe**_

 _ **I'm shaking**_

 _ **falling onto my knees (falling on my knees)**_

 _ **And now that I'm without your kisses**_

 _ **I'll be needing stitches (and I'll be needing stitches)**_

He opened his eyes. A dream. It had all been a dream. But no, his pillow was still wet, and his heart was still broken. But he felt a deal better. He sat up. He put a hand over where he'd been bleeding in his dream. He tried to stand, only to fall to his knees. He hadn't stood in almost two or three days. But he found that maybe he had moved on. Maybe he didn't need Spirit quite as much as he thought he did.

 _ **I'm tripping over myself**_

 _ **I'm aching**_

 _ **begging you to come help (begging baby please)**_

 _ **And now that I'm without your kisses**_

 _ **I'll be needing stitches**_

Walking to the kitchen, he almost tripped several times, but his vision was no longer blurred with tears. His heart still ached, and he imagined that it would for many years to come. But perhaps kisses were not the only way to heal wounds. Perhaps his stitches could do a better job in the end.

 _ **And now that I'm without your kisses**_

 _ **I'll be needing stitches**_

After a week of pulling himself back together, he went back to school. At the front of the school sat Spirit. He was fully prepared to keep walking, but Spirit stood. He sighed and kept walking. He did not want to rip out the stitches keeping his heart together, which is exactly what would happen if Spirit said anything to him. He had moved on. He did not need Spirit to kiss scars and wounds to stop them from aching. He had his stitches, his sutures. He was perfectly alright with his needles and threads. But Spirit grabbed his arm.

 _ **And now that I'm without your kisses**_

 _ **I'll be needing stitches**_

"Stein."

"Hello Spirit." His voice came out colder than intended. He casually pulled out a cigarette and lit it, placing it in his mouth. Spirit looked at him for a moment.

"Can- can I get one too?"

"No." Quick and bitter, much like Spirit had sounded when he had broken his heart. "I only give them to those who hold a special place in my heart." Spirit recoiled at his words, looking hurt at the fact that he had forgotten Spirit so quickly.

"But- I'm sorry, Stein. I- I want to get back together." He felt his mouth curl into an almost cruel, almost mad smile.

"I'm sorry, Spirit, but I've found that sometimes my stitches really are much better than your kisses." And with that, he walked away. He walked away before he saw the look on Spirit's face. He walked away before his heart and resolve shattered completely. He tried not to cry, because if he cried, Spirit would try to hold him. And if Spirit held him, he would surely take Spirit back. And despite how much he loved Spirit, Spirit had broken his heart. Besides, hadn't he learned? Kisses might be better than stitches, but stitches could never break his heart. If anything, they held him together. So he would not cry. Because he could not have Spirit's kisses, so he would rely on his stitches.

* * *

 **Well I hope you didn't cry. I did. A little. But if you did, I offer you my most sincere apologies. Anyway, review and all that. Love ya. Later. ~K**


End file.
